The Cursed Ring Of Angmar
by Meatball
Summary: Very A.U. and O.O.C. The last two Elves on Earth set out to destroy another magic ring. Please read and review, thank you & have a great day!
1. Default Chapter

Title: The Cursed Ring Of Angmar  
  
Author: Meatball  
  
Rating: PG 13  
  
Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it doesn't belong to me.  
  
A/N: This is extremely A.U. and O.O.C. and all that good stuff. And of course completely fictional. Not for LOTR purists, I'm afraid.   
  
Summary: The last two Elves on Earth embark upon another quest to destroy another magic ring. Some odd ideas in here, inspired by a ring that I bought on ebay. I've really enjoyed putting this story together, please read and review...I'm curious to know what people think of this one.   
  
A/N2: There is absolutely no offense intended to J.R.R. Tolkien or to his family or his estate. This is just a work of fiction.  
  
***  
  
Nicholas Greene half-stumbled out of the theatre, blinded momentarily by tears.  
  
"Careful."   
  
He paused, steadied by the gentle hand on his shoulder, and tried to speak. He couldn't manage it, for a moment. After choking back a sob and a laugh, he tried again.  
  
"Thank you, Hal."   
  
He turned and faced the man whose fake i.d. identified him as Haldir Greene, Nicholas' brother. In their hearts, they actually were brothers. Centuries of close friendship had wrought a bond closer than that of many flesh and blood kin.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, fine." The man whose fake i.d. identified himself as Nicholas Greene wiped away the last of the tears, clearing his vision. "I'm fine. I just...I didn't expect it to affect me like that." Then he laughed, brokenly. "And just for the record -- that bit with the olliphant never happened. I was good, but I was never that good!"  
  
Haldir laughed with him. "I was planning to ask you about that. I wasn't on the Fields of Pellenor with you and the others, but I'm quite certain that someone would have said something about you single-handedly bringing down an entire olliphant. But it made for a good scene. Hero stuff, that." Haldir smiled. "And I certainly don't remember you pulling that "skateboard" stunt at Helm's Deep, either."  
  
"And you didn't die at Helm's Deep, either. So, we added a little creative licence in there, somewhere."  
  
"Come on, Legolas." Haldir clapped his friend's shoulder. "Let's go home. 'Return Of The King' was a bit draining for me, even though I wasn't actually there for much of it. I wish I had been, but we had to return to Lorien. Damned Orcs."  
  
The two men walked along the waterfront, enjoying the sounds and the smells of the ocean. Fugitives of the centuries, in this time and place they had decided to live in San Francisco, in a luxurious waterfront unit. They had enjoyed living in Europe and Britain all their long years, watching the world grow and age, amazed at the changes wrought during the Age of Man. One by one, the Elves had sought their final home in Valinor. Legolas and Haldir were quite certain that they were the only two Elves left in this world.  
  
Legolas unlocked the door to their large apartment, and led the way inside. He palmed the light panel, and immediately a soft, diffused glow permeated the quiet room overlooking the bay. Haldir padded to the kitchen, and returned with two glasses of wine.  
  
"Here, Legol." He handed a glass to his friend, and the two of them leaned on the balcony, listening to the seagulls singing their songs. The warm, salty breeze was refreshing. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Oh...yes." Legolas laughed softly, the stream of air blowing around his thick, shoulder-length blonde hair. He looked much the same as he had looked thousands of years ago; a few more lines around the eyes, perhaps. A certain remoteness in his smile. Remarkable how much the young man portraying him in the movie had resembled him. "Yes, I'm alright. It was just...I don't know. Watching the first two movies today, then going to see the final installment tonight. It was...moving." He glanced ruefully at Haldir, who had also changed little, yet quite a bit, during the centuries. Some years ago, the older man had cut his long blonde hair, and currently wore it in a shorter style, dyed a dark colour. It had taken some getting used to, but Legolas had to admit that it suited him, and he wondered if maybe it wasn't time to do something with his own hair. Yet he needed it to cover his ears. Haldir's hair sometimes blew away from his ears in the wind, exposing the Elven points. As far as he knew, no one had really noticed. Haldir often wore a faded Nike ballcap, which hid his ears and lent him a youthful, carefree look.  
  
"Try watching yourself die." Haldir arched an eyebrow. "Now that's moving." He took a drink, then chuckled. "I can't believe you remembered that crack that I made to the dwarf about how loud his breathing was."  
  
Legolas smiled sadly. The actor portraying Gimli had not only looked just like him, but had managed to capture the dwarf's stoic, yet funny, personality. Not for the first time, Legolas missed his friend. He wondered if Gimli was yet following Galadriel around in Valinor, like a worshipful puppy. He wondered if Celeborn was still perplexed by that. His heart ached, suddenly, with longing.   
  
It would be so easy, so easy to just take the boat and go. They still knew the secret way. Gods, they were old -- older than dirt. Should they not go? And see their friends, and their loved ones? He would see his father, and Gimli, his beloved friends and family, Dariannah...   
  
Beautiful Dariannah, who had died so young. To slightly mis-quote Samwise Gamgee (another dear friend portrayed all too well in the movie!), if there were anyone that he would have married, it would have been his beautiful Dariannah, she of the light footsteps and swift mind. After all these centuries, he could still see her long, dark curls and sweet face...  
  
"Look."  
  
Legolas' gaze followed Haldir's outstretched hand, and then he heard it -- the gentle roar of a jet, cutting through the night sky. As always, he gazed in wonder. The Age of Man had been wondrous, indeed. Fascinating. Ingenius and inventive. With a strong certainty, he knew that he was not yet ready to take that last boatride. Not yet. There was still so much to see, to learn, to do, to experience. He might be tired, sometimes, weary beyond the ages -- but he was not ready to go yet.  
  
"Unbelievable," he whispered. "I never tire of that sight." He watched the jet pass beyond their vision. After a few moments, he turned back into the apartment. Haldir had gone to make sandwiches.  
  
They were seated companionably on the overstuffed sofa, munching their sandwiches and drinking their wine. Haldir leafed through the newspaper, while Legolas flipped through the channels. The room was filled with the sounds of a jazz combo coming from the television. After a few moments, Haldir spoke again.  
  
"So what did you think? Were the movies to your satisfaction? Were they accurate enough?"  
  
"I think so," said Legolas, turning the volume down a bit and brushing crumbs off his t-shirt. "They certainly did wonderful justice to the books. What do you think?"  
  
"I think so, too. A few things were off -- but then again, a few things were off in the books, too." He grinned.  
  
Decades before, Legolas had been in the guise of a college professor by the name of J.R.R. Tolkien. He'd decided to start writing the account of one of the greatest stories of his time. It took decades, and eventually was published for the masses. In the decades that followed, he took on the guise of his own "son", and continued the work, always editing and tweaking the journals. In the end, he had been greatly pleased with the result, even though he had made a few small changes to the stories, such as adding his own non-existant passing.   
  
New technology, however, made it increasingly difficult to slip in and out of disguises and identities. He and Haldir, tired of pretending to be other people and tired of trying to "fit in", had abandoned all of their characters. Using their vast fortune (it was amazing how wealth could pile up over the centuries), they erased any paper trails, cleaned up any loose ends, abandoned their wigs and aging makeup, had new identities forged, and made the move to San Francisco. Nicholas and Haldir Greene were born.  
  
However, Legolas became fascinated by a new medium -- movies and television. He fantasized often about Lord of the Rings becoming a movie. Unfortunately, he just did not know how such a grand undertaking could be achieved. Fortunately, technology had finally caught up with his vision. Once again in disguise, with their vast fortune bankrolling their project, a young man in New Zealand had been found to help bring Lord of the Rings to cinematic life.  
  
The result had been breathtaking.  
  
Legolas smiled at Haldir. "Yes. It was good. It was...perfect, actually."  
  
"Brought up a lot of emotions, though. For both of us."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"But it was important, Legol."  
  
Legolas looked at Haldir, questioningly.  
  
"It..." Haldir spread his hands, momentarily lost for words. Then he continued. "Legol...people need stories like this. They need things that they can identify with. I don't know if I'm explaining this correctly, but hear me out. Today's world...I see a lot of good out there. A lot of good. But I also see a lot of evil. And I see a lot of misdirection. People just aren't in touch with themselves, with life, anymore. I see a lot of confusion."  
  
"They are all alone, together," Legolas said, softly. "See what Melko has wrought."  
  
"Yes. Yes...alone, and lonely, and confused. I don't know if a story can make a difference to someone, a huge difference. But perhaps it can. Perhaps...perhaps it can. I don't know. But stories like this are good, Legolas. Good, and important." Haldir smiled. "You did good."  
  
"You helped me." Legolas smiled back, fondly.  
  
***  
  
So it was a few days later, after Haldir returned from the fresh market, that there was a vicious pounding on their front door. Legolas looked up from his computer, brow furrowed. "What the..."  
  
"Legolas Greenleaf! Open up! I know you're in there!"  
  
Legolas froze, eyes wide. "What..."  
  
Haldir paused in the act of putting produce away, automatically snapping into "alert" mode. Once a guard, always a guard. "Stay there," he whispered, moving swiftly and silently towards the security monitor. "Odd..."  
  
"Who is it?" The frantic pounding continued.  
  
"An...old man? Street person?"  
  
"But...how would he know my name?"  
  
Haldir shrugged. "That, I'm going to find out. Stay out of sight."  
  
"Be careful." Legolas reached into the desk drawer for his gun -- oh, how he missed his bow! -- and slipped out of the room, behind the door frame.  
  
Quickly, Haldir slipped out the back door, and stealthed his way around the building. The old man was still pounding on the door, causing more than a few passers-by to stop and stare. As though he sensed him, the old man turned and fixed Haldir with a stern glare.  
  
"The courtesy of the Elves isn't quite what it used to be, Haldir. What would your father say?"  
  
Haldir stopped dead, and stared. Even as his mind screamed that what he was seeing was impossible, he whispered, "Gandalf...?"  
  
"Yes, and if you don't want to feel the sting of my staff across your immortal backside, you'll get that door opened, and quickly! There's no time to lose."  
  
***  
  
The first thing they saw as they entered the unit was Legolas, his face slack with shock and his pistol lowering to his side. "...it...cannot be...Gandalf?"  
  
The old man laughed. "You're not seeing a ghost, you know."  
  
"But...you were in Valinor..."  
  
"Yes, and quite happily retired, I might add. Have you got a cup of tea?" Gandalf shuffled over to the comfortable sofa and sunk down into it.   
  
"Gandalf, what are you doing here? How is this possible?" Legolas sat in a chair opposite, still in shock.  
  
"Well..." The old wizard shifted slightly, and leaned forward. "There's an urgent matter that's come up, one that I'll need your help with. It's got to do with a ring."  
  
Haldir's jaw dropped. "Oh, for Rumil's sake...not again!"  
  
***  
  
"So it's been dug up."  
  
Legolas sat back in his chair, his head reeling. He felt like he was trapped in a horror movie, one that kept rewinding and playing over and over again. Beside him, Haldir was summarizing Gandalf's story in his matter-of-fact way.  
  
"Gandalf, this is ridiculous. The Ring of the Witch King of Angmar?"  
  
"As far as we knew, it was never recovered. But we have discovered that in fact, it was. Meriadoc Brandybuck, after the Witch King was slain, saw it roll off his finger and managed to grab it."  
  
"And for all his life, he kept it. Kept it, safe and secret."  
  
"But is it important? Does it have any powers?"  
  
"Oh yes." Serious now, Gandalf looked at the Elves from under raised eyebrows. "Oh yes. It is powerful."  
  
"And how did it come to be...wherever it was found?" Haldir's intent gaze was focused on the old man, seeking answers.  
  
"As I said, Merry kept it, all his life. However, before he left the Shire, before his last journey, he placed it in a small gold box, and buried it deep. Very deep. And it lay, undisturbed, for centuries upon centuries. Until now."  
  
"The land under which it lay is being developed. Excavators have found this box. It was stolen from the site, however."  
  
"Who stole it?"  
  
"It doesn't matter. What matters is that the ring was purchased by a private collector, in Los Angeles."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And," sighed Gandalf. "It needs to be retrieved." His weary blue gaze fixed on Legolas, who stirred.  
  
"And then what? Tossed into the Crack of Mount Doom?" He leaned his head back, frustrated, and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Gandalf, this is ridiculous."  
  
The old man's eyes flashed with anger. "Do not use that tone with me, young Greenleaf! This ring is still possessed of a vestigal power. Not a strong one, but strong enough. It can certainly be the cause of much misery."  
  
Legolas rolled his head sideways, to look at Haldir, who surprised him by flashing a reckless grin at him. "Well, why not?", he asked. "I've been feeling a little adventurous of late. Let's go fetch us a ring!"  
  
Gandalf chuckled. Legolas rolled his eyes again.  
  
"I have a bad feeling about this," he sighed.  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter Two

"Legol, slow down."  
  
Legolas glanced over at Haldir's fingers, tight and white upon the dashboard of the 'vette. "Nervous?"   
  
"You're driving too fast."  
  
"You always say that."  
  
"You always drive too fast."  
  
"You always say that, too."  
  
"You drive this thing much as you used to ride a horse."  
  
"Except this is like riding about four hundred horses." Legolas grinned. "Without all the horse poop. You know, I really don't miss horse poop."  
  
Haldir was not amused. "Why do people need to move around so fast?"  
  
"Why go slow when you can go fast?"  
  
"Speed kills."  
  
Legolas burst out laughing. "Wimp."  
  
"Maniac." Haldir's eyes widened. "Look out for that..."  
  
Legolas swerved efficiently. "Already saw it. Hal, you could just trust me, you know. I'm an excellent driver."  
  
"I know." Through gritted teeth.  
  
"So why are you so nervous?"  
  
"Because people were not meant to move this fast. If we were, then horses could attain this speed on their own."  
  
"Shadowfax could probably have."  
  
"Shadowfax was a flea-riddled nag."  
  
Legolas grinned, shook his head, and cranked up the cd player, their conversation lost in heavy guitar chords.  
  
***  
  
"Nice place."   
  
They looked up at the facade of the large house before them. Owned by one Mark White, a young dot com millionaire, just outside of Los Angeles. Through no small amount of money changing hands, they were able to locate the man who had bought this Ring of Angmar.  
  
Legolas sighed, wishing that the whole thing was over and done with. He was sure that it would not go smoothly. He brushed his hand against his jacket, feeling the reassuring weight of his pistol. Beside him, Haldir did the same. Their eyes met.  
  
"No violence, if possible."  
  
"Agreed." It wasn't this young man's fault that he had bought such a dangerous ring, but there was no telling what the ring had done to him since it had come into his possession. They remembered Gollum only too well.  
  
Haldir rang the doorbell, for want of any better way to get inside. A uniformed young woman opened the door. "Yes?"  
  
"Mr. White, please."  
  
"Have you an appointment?"  
  
Haldir glanced at Legolas, then pulled his fake F.B.I. identification out of his jacket. Legolas did the same.  
  
"We do now, ma'am. Mr. White, please."  
  
Frightened now, the young woman turned and walked into the house, calling for her employer. Legolas noted the amusement on Haldir's face. He's enjoying this. Too bad he wasn't part of the original Fellowship of the Ring.  
  
A young man, wearing stylish khaki pants and a black golf shirt, strode into the waiting room. Beside him, Legolas heard Haldir's indrawn breath, and he turned to face Mark White.  
  
The shock hit him, like a physical thing, for he thought, for just a moment, that he was looking at the long-dead Boromir. The real Boromir, with his dark hair and eyes, not the Boromir as portrayed in the movie.  
  
Uncanny...  
  
He recovered quickly, however. "Mr. White?"  
  
"Yes." Cautiously.  
  
"Agent Smith and Agent Richards, F.B.I. We believe you are in possession of stolen property. We must confiscate it, sir."  
  
"What...what are you talking about?" The young man looked back at Legolas, steadily, although he began to twist his hands together.  
  
Not twisting them together, Legolas realized. He's twisting a ring on his finger... Legolas looked down at the man's hands, at the ugly, misshapen silver ring.  
  
"I think you know what I'm talking about, sir. That ring. It was found on an archaeological site."  
  
"It was? I...I didn't know..." White smiled placatingly, but his grip on the ring tightened.  
  
"Sorry, sir, but we'll have to confiscate it."  
  
"No! I mean...why? Surely...surely, we can come to an...understanding..."   
  
"Excuse me?" Sharply. Haldir.  
  
"You know. An...understanding..." The phony smile widened. "Name your price."  
  
Legolas was at a loss. He had no idea how to handle this. Clearly, this man was under whatever influence that the ring could wield. Just like Boromir, he thought sadly. He always felt a pang of regret when he thought of the proud, heroic man of Gondor, so badly used by the One Ring. Boromir had deserved a better fate. Pity stirred in Legolas for this man who so strongly resembled his long ago friend.   
  
"No price," he said, kindly. "Please hand the ring over. It...it will be better for you, this way."  
  
White's eyes began to shine, with a queer desperation that Legolas remembered only too well.   
  
"I don't think so, actually. I bought it. It's mine..."  
  
Haldir took the situation in hand.  
  
"Sir. Hand over the ring, or we will be forced to arrest you." He brought his gun out, held it right between Mark White's eyes. "I don't either of us wants that."  
  
"You can't..." He gasped as Haldir pinned him back against the wall.  
  
Legolas grabbed the man's hand, and pulled the ring off. It seemed a very tight fit, and he was as gentle as he could be. The ring didn't seem to want to be pulled off.   
  
Haldir and Legolas backed towards the door, Haldir still holding his gun on the man. "Sorry for any inconvenience, sir."  
  
Legolas was alarmed by the look on the man's face; it looked as though he had just lost his best friend. "Sorry? You're sorry? What the hell good does that do me? Get back here! Give me back my ring! Hey!"  
  
They turned and sprinted to the Corvette. Legolas could still hear the man yelling, from inside the house. "Thank the stars that's over," he said, as he burned rubber pulling out of the drive. "What a nightmare."  
  
"In more ways than one," said Haldir, grimly. "This is a bad enough business, without coming face to face with a dead man."  
  
Legolas was silent, lost in his own turbulent thoughts on the way home. He did not want to think about Boromir, about Mark White, about anything. He just wanted to get rid of that damned ring and go back to his peaceful life.  
  
***  
  
The late evening found the two Elves standing at the railing of the elegant cruise ship that they had boarded later that afternoon.  
  
Attach something heavy to the ring, Gandalf had advised them. Throw it into the deepest depths of the ocean; that should take care of the matter. With any luck, it should not be found again.  
  
Legolas wasn't too sure about all those "should's", but there really wasn't any reasonable alternative that they could come up with on such short notice.  
  
"Peaceful," he murmured, watching the moonlight dance upon the waves.  
  
"Very peaceful," agreed Haldir. He seemed lost in thought.  
  
"This whole thing seems too easy, somehow."  
  
"I know what you mean." Haldir paused, then sighed. "I'm tired."  
  
"It has been a long day, hasn't it."  
  
"Not that, Legol. I mean, yes, it has, but that's not what I meant. I meant that I'm tired of...of all of it."  
  
Legolas felt a chill. He wasn't ready for this conversation.  
  
"Don't you think it's time, perhaps...time to set sail? For Valinor?"  
  
"I...I don't know."   
  
Haldir made an exasperated noise.  
  
"I do not know, Haldir. Sometimes, I feel that yes, it is time. Sometimes I am so weary. But then, something catches my interest, and I'm rejuvenated. Do you understand?"  
  
Another deep sigh. "Yes, I understand. I do. But," Haldir turned to face him. "But those moments are becoming farther and farther apart, Legolas. My soul is weary. My head is weary. My heart is weary."  
  
They were silent for a moment. Then:  
  
"But I would not leave you alone here."  
  
Legolas felt a wash of guilty relief.  
  
"Just...please, do not tarry on my behalf. I am ready to set sail, whenever you are."  
  
Legolas turned, his dark eyes intent. "Soon, Haldir. It will be soon."  
  
Haldir faced his oldest, dearest friend, and smiled. "Thank you."  
  
"No. Thank you, Haldir. Thank you. For everything." They gripped hands for a moment. There was nothing more that could be said. Then, Legolas looked at his watch. "I think we are nearing the...er...dropoff point."  
  
It was late, and no one was about at this hour. They had the deck to themselves. After a quick look around, Haldir pulled the small, heavy metal box from his jacket pocket.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
"Would you care to do the honours?"  
  
He laughed gently. "Sure." Discreetly, Haldir held the box between the bars of the railing. "Take that, Angmar, you son of a..."  
  
"NO!"  
  
Haldir turned his head, just in time to see Legolas collapse, a long, wicked-looking blade buried between the shoulder blades. Before he could react, their assailant -- Boromir? No! It's that boy! Mark White! -- lashed out at Haldir, with a smaller, but equally wicked, knife. He felt -- something -- he felt his strength give way, and the hand holding the box relaxed its grip. There was a small splash as the box containing Angmar's ring slipped beneath the waves.  
  
"You bastard," the boy snarled. "You lost my ring!" Madly, White jumped over the railing, cursing all the way.  
  
Haldir tried to do something, but he couldn't. He lost his grip on the railing, and slipped to the deck. So slippery, why so slippery, where is all that blood coming from? As his vision faded, the last thing he saw was the lifeless dark eyes of Legolas, staring vacantly at nothing...  
  
***  
  
Why is it so bright in here?  
  
"Och, are you going to sleep the day away, now! Wake up, Elf!"  
  
Haldir rolled over, wondering why his mouth felt so dry, and why there was a dwarf yelling at him.  
  
"Why, Gimli, did someone give you a box to stand on, so you could see over the bed's railing?"  
  
That sounded like Legolas, but he's dead, and it sounded like Gimli, but Gimli's dead, and...come to think of it, aren't I dead...?  
  
Rumbly dwarf laughter resounded throughout the room, along with silvery bell-chime laughter that Haldir remembered all too well, though he had not heard it in many hundreds of years.  
  
"My...my lady...?" A cool hand on his brow, and the press of a cup against his parched lips.  
  
"Welcome home, Haldir."  
  
"Lady...Galadriel..."  
  
Haldir managed to sit up, albeit with some help from Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond. He looked around the brightly-lit room. Legolas sat propped up on many pillows in the next bed. With him sat Gimli, and Frodo Baggins, an older man who must be Legolas' father, Thranduil, and a pretty, dark-haired Elven maiden whom Haldir recognized from Legolas' sketchbooks: Dariannah. She and Legolas were holding hands. Haldir smiled.  
  
"I think I can guess where we are." He looked up as his mother and father entered the room, their faces shining with joy. "And you, Gandalf," he added, as the old wizard entered the room. "What news? Were we successful?"  
  
"Indeed you were, young Haldir. The Cursed Ring of Angmar now lies deep at the bottom of the sea. That should keep it out of trouble, for some time, at least."  
  
"I should hope so. Unfortunate that it was able to drive that young man to madness, though. That's very sad."  
  
"Madness and violence. So it would have done, to all that it came into contact with." Gandalf's eyes were grave. "A very unwholesome thing." He rose. "But for now, it is dealt with. You have done a good thing, Haldir, Legolas. Very good."  
  
He turned to leave the room, but at the doorway, he paused, and turned back with a smile on his worn face. "Oh, and by the way...welcome to Valinor. Welcome home."  
  
***  
  
The End! 


End file.
